


Best Served Cold

by knightmareframe



Series: Fake AH Crew [1]
Category: Fake AH crew - Fandom, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Gore, Lots of it, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightmareframe/pseuds/knightmareframe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff and Jack meet for the first time, beginning the adventures of the Fake AH Crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I'm putting on here that I'm actually kinda proud of. If you have any criticisms or comments, make sure to let me know in the comment section. (feedback really helps out)

A tall man with a black three piece suit, a handlebar mustache, and a most fashionable black bow-tie, was walking down the street on his way to get his morning coffee. His mustache wax stowed, he tried and failed to walk confidently. Instead he was slouching, the bags under his eyes badly covered with the off brand concealer he bought at two in the morning. He had stayed up all night the night before to finish some paperwork in preparation for the promotion he believed he would receive upon his arrival at work.

  
He was two or so blocks away from his favorite coffee place when a loud clanging of metal from a nearby ally startled him. He instinctively winced, bringing his hands to his face. As he slowly brought his hand down, he saw a small tuft of hair poking out of a pile of trash that sat next to a dark blue dumpster. Then he noticed the blood, or at least something that looked like it. Cautiously, the man approached the hair, wondering if it would be best to turn and run away. To take his worries, stuff them down, and continue his day. After all, he held no responsibility for that tuft of hair, and it may not even be what it seemed. Still, the thought of fleeing was but one of the screaming thoughts fluttering through his mind, the loudest of which told him to lift the bag.

  
He lifted it slowly, revealing a dirty blonde wig sitting on top of a folded cardboard box with what looked like red paint. He burst out laughing a big, hearty laugh, distracting himself from the dire thoughts he had thought just before. But his relaxation was cut short by another clanging coming from the dumpster. After jumping about two feet in the air, he slowly grabbed the blue, rusty, disgusting lid to the garbage container. He thought of what, if anything, he would find sitting in the dumpster. Perhaps it was just some wild animal, or the metal shifting, or maybe there was no noise at all. He had been up late last night, preparing for the extra responsibility his new duties may bring, maybe he had just imagined a noise in his panic. But his excuses wouldn’t stop him from opening the lid. He firmly adjusted his grasp to include both hands, lifting the lid as he looked away.

  
He very slowly looked into the dark blue container to see a woman face down in the garbage, covered in blood. He quickly covered his mouth to keep himself from both screaming and vomiting at the same time. She had bruises along her neck and shoulders, her leg was jaggedly snapped in half, bent at a nearly ninety degree angle. Her head roughly shaved and scared. The blue Hawaiian print shirt she had been wearing ripped and bloody, gashes all along her back covered in slime and garbage. But despite the horrifying evidence to support otherwise, she appeared to be breathing, and more importantly, alive. He bent down to check her pulse when she moved her head while letting out a loud groan. He jerked his arm back, slicing it on the jagged edge of the container.

  
He grasped the wound as the world began to spin. He tried to think of what to do next, but his mind was scattered. He grabbed the dumpster’s edge, gripping it as hard as he possibly could. As the spinning slowed down, his head cleared. He pulled out his phone to find a dead battery. He let a quiet curse escape his lips, as he shoved the phone into his pocket. He paced back and forth, his hands tightly grasped around his head, his hair fraying more and more with every second.

  
Through the frustration, he saw someone passing on the street. He began sprinting toward the person before him, grabbing their shoulders and shaking them. After yelling incomprehensible gibberish for a few minutes, he finally spit out some understandable words with an unparalleled crack in his voice,

  
“Don’t just stand there, call the police or something!”


	2. The Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, it just takes me forever to do things. Now that the ball is sorta rolling, i should be able to get the next chapter out faster than this one (but don't hold me to that) Hope you guys enjoy Chapter 2: The Hospital

The man woke very suddenly from his oddly comfortable slumber, still fully clothed. He had somehow draped his leg over the armrest of the waiting room chair he had spent all day in, and the right half of his body was hanging limply from the chair, dangling centimeters from the ground. Before he could completely open his eyes he heard a distant voice. His unsettled mind was unable to understand it at first, he rubbed his eyes to clear away the grog. The voice repeated itself, clearer this time, “Mr. Ramsey...”.  
He thought about moving. He thought really hard about it. But the small of his back was fitted exactly into the grove on the seat, and the second he shifted slightly that bliss would leave him stranded in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable torture chair from hell.  
“Excuse me, Mr. Ramsey?”  
He felt the cold grasp of a latex covered hand on his shoulder. A chill ran down his spine when he remembered what he’d witnessed that morning. The rivers of blood flowing out of her head, arms, and legs, broken bones protruding from her skin, her hair patchy and shaved. He rolled himself from the chair, landing face first on the floor. Letting out a small groan, the man's face slumped further into the cold linoleum tile.  
“I’m getting up, Dr. Johnson. Just give me a minute.”  
“Nah, I’m Dr. Free,” said Dr. Free. Now that he was slightly more conscious, he could hear a twinge of a british accent. “She’s conscious now, I think. Didn’t see it, but a nurse saw her talking. Guess you could go in there now, if you like.”  
The man pulled himself up from the floor, and looked the doctor in the face. He looked nothing like the short, pudgy, italian man he'd spoken with on the way in. This man was slightly taller, with golden brown hair that he had very obviously been running his hands through. Even though he was wearing a fairly expensive looking pair of sunglasses, he completely avoided eye contact whenever he spoke, swerving his head almost completely to the side. Mr. Ramsey, seeing how tense and bothered he looked, decided to say, “What kinda douchebag wears sunglasses indoors? I thought doctors were supposed to be smart.”   
The color drained from the Doctor’s face as he said, “Well, if you want to be a prick about it…” Mr. Ramsey was uncontrollably snickering at this point,speaking in a confident mocking tone,  
“Nice nose, idiot, did your--” a voice over the intercom interrupted his insult. The voice was out of breath, and speaking frantically,  
“Would Dr. Free please go to intensive care on floor three? Dr. Free to intensive care. Like right now… And hurry please you need to se--” the voice was abruptly interrupted by a loud thud followed by a static shudder. Mr. Ramsey would have been alarmed by this on any other day, but he felt dwelling on it would only make his day worse.   
Dr. Free, now staring down at his clipboard, said “Go to room 108, last door on that hallway. Also stop being such a cunt. People don’t like cunts.”  
Mr. Ramsey began to leave, but not before whispering, “You’re the cunt, you cunt.” as he walked away.  
He stopped, just short of the doorway. He didn’t even know the person lying beyond the door, but he knew he should say something. He couldn’t even think about her without flashes bringing him back to the bloody violence. Imagining the smell of garbage, the the thick taste of blood in the air, the ace bandage wrapped around his arm, and the sight of it, almost pulsating in his mind. The bruised neck, gaping wounds, and twisted limbs clouded his judgement momentarily. He shook his head, trying to resettle himself. It didn’t work. He pushed the ajar door open, and stepped inside.  
He looked to the hospital bed, which was empty and disheveled, the thin, uncomfortable looking blanket thrown to the floor. As he scanned the rest of the room, he saw the woman had left the bed, and had nearly climbed out the window. She looked to be in her mid-to-late thirties, yet very muscular. He noticed scars from long before the attack she had suffered when he found her. She was struggling to get through the window, due to the large cast on her left leg which she tugged at furiously. Her shoulder blades were pressed tightly against the top edge of the window frame, keeping her leg from the outside. She let out a few choice words under her breathe that lead to a large loud “Shit!” as she kicked her heel into the wall. She had barely noticed the hole she left when she locked eyes with Mr. Ramsey, and let out a softer “Shit.”   
“The hell are you trying to do? Kill yourself?” He said as the panic washed off the woman's face. She let go of her leg, almost looking relieved.  
“Oh, thank god, I thought you were a doctor. Could I get some help with this?”  
“Um, what are you even doing?”  
“Getting out of this trash heap.I’ve gotta skip town man.” Mr. Ramsey walked to the other side of the room, knowingly staying just outside of the woman's reach.  
“Well, I don’t even know what to help you with…”  
“The cast, what the fuck do you think?”  
“But-”  
“Look, there's a knife, or scalpel, or whatever on that table, bring it here.”  
“But isn’t your leg ruined? I saw the bone myself. Like, the actual bone sticking out of your leg.”  
“Ugh fine, leave it, just give me a hand out the window.” She returned to tugging at her leg fruitlessly. He leaned onto the balls of his feet, making sure to keep his distance, and peered out the window over her shoulder.  
“So what do you plan to do about the two floor drop?”  
“There’s an emergency ladder I can reach, if I could get this stupid boot out of this goddamn window.” She started to shake her injured leg rather violently. She failed to achieve anything. She let go of her leg with a harsh sigh that transitioned into a loud outburst, “Fucking god damn it! Holy fucking shit!” She violently shoved her heel into the wall, growing the already sizable hole with a loud crash.  
“Okay, if your screaming didn’t do it, someone definitely heard that shit.”  
“I’d be a lot quieter if i was gone.” She said with a desperate smirk. After a few seconds of the man doing nothing, she said “Fuck it.” Her body slid out the window with no regard for how she fell. The man, shocked, immediately ran forward, catching her cast.  
“Holy shit, you are gonna kill yourself!” he said, louder than he intended.   
He was now out of breath, leaning out the window, each inhale and exhale burdened by this stranger’s body weight and his own desire to not fall.  
“Okay, this sucks.” Said the woman with strain, now feeling the full extent of her injuries. “I- I think if you can swing me, i can reach the ladder.”  
“If I do what? I’m sorry, did you just ask me to hurl an injured lady at the wall? Cause I’m not about to break your other leg. No, I’m pulling you up.”  
“No! Don’t do that! I- I--” The man pulled with all his might, but she only lifted a half inch from where she was.  
“Fuck. I- I’m just gonna swing you.”   
He started to swing her from side to side.   
“Just tell me when you can reach it.” He muttered. It was just past noon on a monday, and all the energy had left his body. The woman’s hand reached out in a desperate attempt to grab the ladder. She missed the handle by a half inch, causing her to spin slightly. The shift in momentum almost made the man fall. As they almost tumbled out of the building, the man wondered what would have happened if he had just kept walking past the alleyway that morning. Yes, this woman would be in much worse condition, but he would be in the middle of the only thing he looked forward to each and every day. His lunch break. Those fifteen minutes where he can isolate himself from his coworkers and really picture what it was all for. If he stayed at that company a few more years, he would be rolling in the fattest stacks imaginable. His climb up the corporate ladder was almost complete. He often dreamt of never having to work another goddamn day of his life during those lunch breaks. It really put his whole relationship with the corporate monsters into perspective each day.  
He was jolted back into reality by a gunshot narrowly missing his head.  
“What the fuck?” he yelled as he dove out the window onto the ground below. It took about thirty seconds for the man to recover, as the fall hadn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it would. Then he realized why. He looked down to see the woman almost flattened. She slowly stood, face re-bloodied, stitches ripped open.  
“We need to run. Now.” she said, after spitting up some blood.  
“What the fuck is going on?”  
“There’s no time for that right now. We’re going” She took his hand and started running/limping in a fast manner. He was lagging behind, still trying to piece everything together in his mind. The man looked back to see a black van closing in on them. He quickly overtook the woman. As she re-passed him, she tried to reassure him, saying,  
“Don’t worry, there should a ride up ahead.”. As they rounded the corner of the building, they could see a hot pink sports car parked on the curb.  
“Oh, that’ll be great, blends in real well.” Said the man, trying desperately to distract himself from the occasional bullet whizzing past his head.  
“Don’t blame me, this is the kinda shit people drive in this city.”   
The black van fast approaching, they took no leisure getting into the back seat of that sports car. They both shouted for the car to drive as it shot off into the street. They had rounded a corner before the van had even made it out of the lot, making for a pretty quick get away. The woman, now with a look of levity on her face, said,  
“That could’ve been worse, eh?”  
“What the fuck was that shit?” the man screamed with all the air left in his lungs.  
Now with even heavier breathing, the man said, “Okay, you’re gonna answer some questions now, okay?”  
“Well the thing is--”  
“Nope, this is happening.” He took one long inhale before asking, in one long breath, “Who found you, what are they doing here? Why are you in Los Santos? Why did this have to happen to me? Why the fuck are they shooting at us? More importantly, why the fuck are they shooting at me? What about th--”  
The woman held out her hand for him to shake.   
“Hi, you can call me Jack.” The man hesitantly took her hand,   
“Geoff. And what do I call your driver?” He leaned forward so as to see the driver's face. She was an older woman, looked to be in her late forties, with headphones in.  
“Her? She’s just the Uber I called. Never seen her before in my life.” The driver gave a quick sideways glance toward Geoff, before doing a small finger salute in his direction. “So, have you got somewhere I could crash?”  
“What? I just got shot at, and you’re expecting me to bunk with you? No way, I… I’m…” He looked into her eyes and realized, he had just had the most exhilarating time of his life. Those last seven minutes where a taste of a life he never thought he could lead. “You know what? I’m in. You can stay at my place if I can get in on whatever you’re doing.” He shifted in his seat excitedly as his tone of voice got higher.“  
“You know what, I do owe you one. If you want, I’ll let you in on whatever my next job is.”  
“Really?” He asked, sounding more like a child than a man in his forties.   
“As long I can stay at your place till the heat comes off me.”  
“Deal.” He tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Just take a left up here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the general reading experience is improved if you read all of Jack's dialogue in a Jack voice. Like, you should anyway, but his voice does not sound like it should be coming form his fake AH self's body. Feel free to comment and all that jazz.


End file.
